Lullaby
by nandahimehass
Summary: Lovino is seriously concerned about his brother's relationship with Ludwig and ends up finding unsolved problems of his own while visiting Antonio. Rated M for future chapter (SMUT, SMUT, SMUT) and language. Pairings are, so far, Gerita and Spamano


**I do not own hetalia nor it's characters in any way. Hope you guys enjoy this. -Also, I WILL finish My Grelliam fic. Rated M for future chapters. Warning for Spamano and Gerita. Another pairings may or not appear. If you do not like homo-erotic themed literature, please do not read.**

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The older Italian entered the house far from silently, the door banged loudly behind him announcing his arrival. He didn't even bother to call for his brother, the latter probably was at ]"the potato bastard's" place. Lovino couldn't bring himself to believe how his brother, Feliciano, could make such a fool of himself for that German. The room was left behind by the quick steps and these soon reach the bedroom he shared with his younger brother, it was rather simple, still, it carried a great deal of style.

'As I fucking expected.' He muttered to himself, throwing the backpack he carried near the door. Lovino sighed and walked into the mattress without even turning on the lights. It rained outside and the lightening were enough illumination for his last moments of consciousness that night. He, for a reason unknown yet to himself, recalled the days he'd cling to Spain, scared of the thunders, the Spaniard would sing him a lullaby and hold him tight again his chest until he fell asleep. He took a deep breath, holding the pillow nearby. He was alone. Completely alone.

Then morning came, and with the sun, Feliciano also decided to get back. The smaller Italian brother hardly carried anything along when he got back from Germany's house, it was slowly becoming a habit, nearly unconscious. This time, though, he had brought the German, himself.

' Frattelo~? Ve~ are you home?' He shouted, getting inside as quick as he could, while Ludwig closed the door, not being surprised any longer by how loud the Italian could be. In fact, he more than anyone, knew that.

'Veneziano… Fucking idiot…'Lovino snarled, half-awake, as Feliciano entered their bedroom and began shaking him gently. 'Leave the fuck alooone!'

'But I'm home! You called yesterday, right?' He smiled sitting on the bed. Lovino gave out a sigh, giving up his sleep and sat up too, rubbing his eyes. 'It seemed serious… Did you and brother Spain have another fight?'

'Fuck Antonio… I called because it's been too fucking long you've been locked up at that German's bedroom.'

'Ve~Don't say it like it's a bad thing~'

'That fucking potato bastard… If he EVER hurts a cell of your body…' He gritted his teeth. Lovino didn't trust Germany, he didn't trust people in general, really. Not even himself, sometimes.

'Luddy wouldn't hurt me! Just ask him, he's at the li—'

'Ahh! You brought him here?!' The older asked, incredulous. Oh, that was just perfect.

'Of course I did! He's…'

'I know how you feel towards him, Feliciano, but let's be fucking serious!' Lovino could see the smile fading n his brother's face, he hated doing that. He hated that he was the one to make Veneziano cry, they were brothers after all. Still, he was seriously concerned. 'He's a fucking piece of cold marble!'

'Luddy's not like that…' The smaller looked down, playing with his fingers. He loved Germany and that had always been written on his face. All but Ludwig, himself, could notice, this last one being too thick or merely ignoring the information –Or, according to Romano, taking advantage of it. 'He may be strict and scare and very cold… But sometimes he's sweet and caring and really takes care of me!'

' I am NOT having this argument with you again, frattelo. Ti amo and that will never change, but per favour open your eyes and see what you've got yourself into! That man's not good'

'Well, which of us is closer to the Mafia?'

Lovino's eyes twitched. That was it. He got up the bed without a word and walked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Feliciano always brought that up, he hated the fact that Lovino had relations with those risky people. The smaller took a deep breath and fought the tears running down his cheeks as Lovino did the same into the bathroom. They both hated fighting, but always it always ended up like that.

After breakfast, Lovino left the house. He didn't want to see Feliciano awkwardly trying to get closer to the German standing like a tree on their living room. Thus, he got himself a bicycle and made his way to the only place he, even if unconsciously, always went to clear up his mind. Antonio's house.

The Spaniard didn't open the door for him, he didn't have to, Lovino had the key already, so he simply got in, walking soundlessly to the main room, where he'd find a recently awakened Spain sipping a black coffee by the window. The tanned man turned his semi-nude form to the other, surprised and happy at the same time.

'Lovi… You're here so early.' He said, on his husky morning voice. The thin white fabric of the sleeping pants –Only clothing he wore- moved swiftly along his well-built thighs as he walked towards Romano, smiling sweetly. The Italian, though, felt his cheeks burning at the very sight of him and turned his face away, arms crossed, faking disinterest.

'Frattelo brought that fucking potato bastard home, I can't stand that.' He justified. 'Not that I wanted to see you or anything.'

Spain giggled, moving to leave a coffee-tasting kiss on the other's cheek. His strong arms wrapping around Lovino's waist, who complained but easily gave in, hugging back. "It's because I'm upset…" the Italian forced himself to believe, finally having recognised the frenetic rhythm his heart had acquired since he got into the house. Shyly, he rested his head on the Antonio's neck. A hand came up to meet the back of his hair, stroking it slowly and gently.

'It rained yesterday… Quite a lot.. Lo siento, I wasn't there to hug and hold you, right?' Romano forced his way out of the embrace, completely reddened.

'I don't fucking need you to hug me…' He lied. ' You're too full of yourself.'

The Spaniard laughed and shrugged. ' That might be true, my little tomato~! But you love it' He insisted.

Lovino sighed. He was what most people call a hypocrite. Secretly he was telling himself what he had just told Feliciano. That it was impossible. That he would never love you back. That loving the very same bastard throughout years, centuries even… That was crazy.

He gave in anyway. The same way Feliciano always went after Ludwig there he was, letting himself get lost in between Antonio's arms once again. Breathing the sweet, yet spicy, scent lifting from that caramel skin.

'My little tomato… ' The Spaniard murmured, kissing the top of the other's head. ' You're the most precious treasure I've ever got'

'Who says I'm yours?' He said half-heartedly, yet scared.

'


End file.
